### A Meteoric Rise & Tempting Offers
Charlotte sat at her kitchen counter, her phone screen glowing brightly in the dim evening light. Her heart pounded as she watched the numbers tick up—
472K… 478K… 485K…
Her video views were skyrocketing, rapidly approaching the 500K milestone.
"People are really into this," Olivia muttered, scrolling through the flood of comments. "'She's so inspiring!' 'Finally, a weight-loss journey that doesn't involve eating dry lettuce.' And look at this one—'Her brownies made me cry happy tears.'"
Charlotte snorted. "That might be the most dramatic thing I've heard today."
Then, a notification popped up.
New Email: Sponsorship Proposal
Charlotte clicked it open, scanning the contents.
A high-end cookware brand wanted her to feature their products in her next video.
Her inbox dinged again.
A health food company was offering a hefty paycheck to promote their meal replacements.
Charlotte's eyes widened. Real money. Serious money.
"Liv," she said slowly, "these brands want to pay me. Like, actually pay me."
Olivia leaned over, reading the emails. "Well, it was bound to happen. You're blowing up."
Charlotte ran a hand through her hair, exhaling. "I mean… this is amazing, right? I don't have a job right now, and I've been draining my savings just to make these videos. If I don't start making money soon, I might have to—"
"Sell grilled cheese sandwiches out of a food truck?" Olivia quipped.
Charlotte groaned. "Don't tempt me."
"But—" Olivia's voice turned serious. "Are these companies legit? What if that meal replacement tastes like chalk? Or worse, what if it's just a scam disguised as a 'healthy' product? You're building trust with your audience, Char. You can't just slap your name on anything."
Charlotte chewed her lip. "You're right. I need to test the products myself before agreeing to anything."
She glanced at the emails again. The money was tempting. But she had learned the hard way—quick fixes never ended well.
"I'll make my decision after trying them out," she said firmly.
Olivia grinned. "Smart girl."
---
### A Shift in Family Dynamics
The next morning, Charlotte headed to the farm for fresh ingredients, expecting the usual awkward silence from her brother.
Instead, she found James standing in the greenhouse, sorting through leafy greens.
"You're up early," Charlotte remarked, raising an eyebrow.
James handed her a basket filled with fresh vegetables. "For your videos," he said, not meeting her gaze.
Charlotte blinked. "Wait. You're… helping me?"
James shrugged. "Don't make it weird. I just figured... you're actually sticking to this. Thought you could use the support."
Charlotte felt a lump form in her throat.
"Thanks," she said, her voice softer than usual.
When she got back home, her mother was in the kitchen, humming as she kneaded dough. Her father sat at the table, reading the newspaper.
"Mom, I'm thinking about opening my own little restaurant," Charlotte mentioned, trying to sound casual. "Just a small place."
Her mother paused, dusting flour off her hands. "Will it be safe?"
"It's just cooking, Mom. Not a street fight."
Her father finally spoke, his voice steady. "If this is what you want, go for it."
It wasn't much, but coming from him, it meant everything.
Charlotte squared her shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to rebuild something.
---
### The Party from Hell
Meanwhile, Victoria Langley lounged at a chic café, sipping an oat milk latte as she scrolled through Charlotte's social media.
"'Her brownies made me cry'? Please. When she made those for Alexander, he wouldn't even touch them."
Madison Carter sat beside her, rolling her eyes. "I don't get it. Why is everyone obsessed with her? She used to be a joke."
Victoria smirked. "Because people love a comeback story. She should've stayed hidden, where she belongs. But don't worry—I'll remind everyone exactly who Charlotte Evans really is."
Madison leaned in. "What are you thinking?"
Victoria's eyes gleamed as she looked at her phone. "Let's just say… I have a little surprise planned for her ."
---
Charlotte got an urgent call from Bella's Bistro manager, begging for her help.
"Charlotte, we've got a VIP private party and... we're short-staffed. We'll pay whatever you ask!"
Charlotte hesitated for a second, but ultimately agreed.
When she arrived at the party and saw Victoria.
Her stomach twisted.
This was a trap.
But she had committed to the job. She wasn't going to back down now.
Inside, crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the guests, all dressed in designer gowns and tailored suits. Charlotte moved swiftly, setting up the catering table when—
SPLASH.
Red wine spilled down her front, soaking her apron.
"Oh no!" A blonde model gasped theatrically. "I'm sooo clumsy!"
Charlotte clenched her jaw. Breathe. Keep moving.
Then, a middle-aged man stormed up to her, eyes blazing.
"You're Charlotte Evans?" he spat.
She barely nodded before he exploded.
"Your father ruined my investments! I lost half my fortune because of him. Your whole family is full of liars and thieves!"
Charlotte stiffened. The room fell silent, eager ears tuning in.
Before she could respond, someone sniffed dramatically.
"These pastries taste… weird," a woman sneered, dropping a half-eaten tart onto her plate.
Victoria, who had been recording everything on her phone, giggled. "Oh, come on, be nice! Charlotte's a working girl now! I didn't expect to see you working so hard! Give our chef a round of applause, everyone!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Charlotte's hands curled into fists. This wasn't just humiliation—this was public execution.
---
### The Man Watching from Afar
On the second-floor balcony, Alexander Hastings sipped his whiskey, watching the scene unfold below.
Next to him, Damien let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's brutal."
Alexander's grip tightened around his glass.
He had known Charlotte when she was a spoiled, dramatic rich girl—someone who'd burst into tears if her dress got wrinkled.
But now?
She stood there, fists clenched. She wasn't crying. She wasn't running.
For some reason, that unsettled him.
"She's gonna break," Damien mused. "Wanna step in?"
Alexander exhaled, setting his glass down. "It's not my problem."
Still, his feet moved before his mind could stop them.
But just as he reached the staircase—
Charlotte moved first.
### The Strike Back
She reached up, yanking the stained name tag off her apron.
Then, in one swift motion, she tore the apron from her body and threw it onto the catering table.
"Enough!"
The room froze.
Charlotte lifted her chin, scanning the crowd with icy eyes.
"You think you can break me?" She let out a cold laugh.
"Victoria," she said smoothly, "you're doing all this because you're afraid, aren't you?"
Victoria scoffed, but her expression faltered. "Afraid? Of you? Don't be ridiculous."
Charlotte tilted her head. "Then why are you so obsessed with making sure I fail?"
She snatched the microphone from Victoria and faced the camera.
"Thanks for the wine bath, Vicky—" She wiped her cheek, "—but here's a free tip from an ex-1%er: Stains from a $10,000 Bordeaux wash out with baking soda. Just like your fake-ass kindness."
She strode to the dessert table, grabbed a chef's knife, and— THUNK. Buried it into the five-tier cake. She ripped out a chunk and took a savage bite.
"Also? This cake cost more than my rent?" She licked frosting off her thumb, "Good food doesn't discriminate—not by wallet size, not by waist size."
Silence.
The air grew thick with tension.
From across the room, Alexander watched—his grip on the banister tightening.